


This Latest Wondrous Calamity

by smilebackwards



Category: Lost World - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 08:49:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilebackwards/pseuds/smilebackwards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Roxton and Malone have further bro adventures on the plateau and Malone is oblivious to the affections of others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Latest Wondrous Calamity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [innerbrat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/innerbrat/gifts), [Justice_Turtle (Curuchamion)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curuchamion/gifts).



> Yuletide treat for innerbrat and Justice_Turtle who wanted further adventures of Roxton and Malone on the plateau :)

We are returned to Maple White Land! Albeit in quite a different configuration than before. Of our original party, only myself and Lord John Roxton once again find ourselves amid the dual peril and delight that accompanies a journey to this lost world. I could not think to find a better man than Lord John to lead our second foray into the still mostly unknown wonderland, but I confess, our entire journey down the Amazon on the inestimable _Lady Annabella_ , through the thick, dangerous forests and in fact all the way up to the very base of the basalt cliffs of the plateau, I expected Professor Challenger to spring out at any moment and once more inform us that he would lead the expedition to the fantastical land of which he has pronounced himself gatekeeper. 

Alas, it was not to be, and the esteemed professor remains in Europe, traveling to lecture in all the great universities and accepting the rightful praise of every zoologist, and indeed every adventure-minded man or woman, on that continent or any other. 

But let me return to London for a time, to the Albany, to the start of our second expedition, with Lord John’s diamonds on the corner of his Louis Quinze antique table and his hand stretched across to me. I clasped it warmly and Challenger boomed out a laugh, “Back to the dear old plateau already, is it? I expect you’ll look well after our young friend again, Lord John,” Challenger said with a strange, hard look at Lord John. He patted me genially on the shoulder and beamed at me and I had the impression that I was a favored student, perhaps more loved for temperament than brainpower, being entrusted to an upperclassman. I might have been offended—I certainly didn’t think I’d come so poorly out of our adventures as to need mollycoddling on the next voyage—but something about his concern simultaneously warmed me and so I held my silence.

Lord John looked oddly wrong-footed. “Certainly I will endeavor to do so,” he said, stilted.

“The primary occupation of scientists is to observe,” Summerlee said somewhat acidly. “I can’t think how you would imagine two men such as Professor Challenger and myself might somehow fail to do so.”

It is of primary concern to journalists as well to observe, and so convey, but in this instance it seemed I had been remiss and I said as much to my companions.

“Never you mind, young fellah-my-lad,” Lord John said quickly while Summerlee and Challenger shook their heads in exasperation and amusement.

I will admit that more than a few times on our travels I didn’t understand in its entirety the dialogue that passed between these three great men and sometimes set aside the burden of knowledge for the bliss of ignorance. To do so now seemed the better part of valor.

We immediately began a list of now-known necessary items we had neglected on our previous expedition, such things as spyglasses and sulfa and a good deal more rope, before moving the pressing question of who else was to come along on this second venture.

Professor Challenger, of course, had final approval over the selection of members for our journey and those that were rejected—among them the much-despised Dr. Illingworth—cursed him bitterly. Only four emerged victorious from the antechamber Challenger had taken ownership of for the interviews: Professor Hymer, a young paleontologist, Dr. Cutter, a marine biologist, Professor Goldacre, a wizened but active zoologist whose specialty seemed to be the entirely of the Kingdom Animalia, both living and presumed deceased, and Mr. Daniel Hardwick, a well-known adventurer of acquaintance with Lord John. Thus we were six and, after waiting an interminable three months so that we could arrive in the proper dry season, we set off on a cool, clear morning at the beginning of spring.

I will spare you our journey. It was much the same route as described in my previous carefully confused account and before our leave-taking Professor Challenger stressed even more stringently the need for secrecy if the plateau was not now to be overrun by every prospector and adventure-seeker the world over.

When we reached the plateau, we ascended through the same rock window of the cave through which we had escaped, the place having been carefully marked before our journey home. Our return through the cave went unnoticed but upon the flat plains we were easily spotted. The Accala women were most distressed that Challenger had not returned with the expedition, but Maretas, the young chief we rescued from the apemen on our last adventure, and who in turn rescued us from our marooned captivity on the plateau, at least seemed pleased that we should meet again. Upon his wrist shone the bracelet of lustrous glass beads that I had previously observed on his father, perhaps hinting that the old chief was passing some of his duties into the care of his son. 

I don’t know whether the collection of a new devil chick is among the list of specimens Lord John has been tasked with returning to Professor Challenger in London, but all whose interest lies in the Jurassic species on the plateau will rejoice that I now have in my possession an iguanodon egg! It was gifted to me by Maretas, from his own herd of the beasts, and he assured me that it requires no tending beyond protection from the more predatory species so abundant here. 

The egg itself is the size of a rugby ball, pale yellow and covered in scales that match the hides of the iguanodons. When I showed this marvelous gift to the others, Professors Hymer and Goldacre made much of it, exclaiming in amazement and studying it from every angle, but Lord John took a strange umbrage and strode off to have words with Maretas. 

I do not know how well they were able to converge upon the point Lord John felt so strongly about, for we have yet to learn much of the Accala language and Lord John’s interesting, jerky manner of speech can sometimes be less than intelligible to the native English speaker, but there was a good deal of pointing in my direction and Maretas looked supremely unconcerned during the whole interview so it cannot have been too terribly bad. Lord John didn’t speak of it to me directly afterwards, but I fathom that it has to do with our diplomatic ties and that Maretas’ gift and my acceptance have somewhat overstepped the bounds of the cordial but distant relationship we had previously fostered with the Accala, their reluctance to help us descend the plateau thwarting closer ties. 

Maretas waved to me quite cheerily, perhaps even a little cheekily, as we set off to make camp and he returned to the caves, so I take it bonds have not been irreparably severed. For my part, I have tried to subtly assure Lord John that my loyalty will always be to our company and, indeed, I think no stronger bonds can be forged between two men than when one rescues another from the grip of a liopleurodon.

Let me sketch for you this latest wondrous calamity. The focus of our second expedition was to be the mysteries of the great Central Lake. We had brought with us great nets and a harpoon gun such as those used in the whaling industry and from the jungle we carried up the flexible limbs of saplings and the scraped and treated animal hides that our guides had shown us how to re-fashion into the canoes we’d used to journey down the tributary until the waters were too shallow to let us pass.

It was on our very first try at the lake that our inauspicious encounter occurred. Lord John assembled and outfitted our long canoe and we spent several peaceful hours casting and reeling in our largest net which returned mostly full of a species of fish that, to my unpracticed eye, looked uncommonly like common trout but which were much exclaimed upon by our professors.

It was our final casting of the evening that brought us to the attention of the terrible liopleurodon. It became tangled in the net and after dragging us swiftly and unresistingly behind it for perhaps half a kilometer, it lunged above the waterline. 

To put the creature beside our great crocodiles that rule the Nile would have been akin to putting a lion beside a kitten. It was fully six meters long, with flippers the size of walruses, and its lunge set Professor Goldacre and I squarely inside its gigantic mouth. We were saved from being swallowed only by the net, which separated us from the creature and kept it chained to the side of our canoe. 

I was entirely frozen in terror, but I’m bound to say that Professor Goldacre showed that he was made of sterner stuff. Halfway down the gullet of the beast and he was examining the triple rows of teeth, the unhinging jaw! When Lord John and Hardwick grabbed us by the legs and hauled us back into the marginal safety of the boat, he surveyed his wounds with an eye to the mastication processes of the liopleurodon and was most displeased when Lord John put a harpoon through the beast’s belly.

In any case, we suffer from only mild lacerations and minor shock. Our adventures continue and, as ever, my dear Mr. McArdle, I entrust them into your mindful care.


End file.
